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Image for the poem The Middle of the Train Track

The Middle of the Train Track

Wait.  
I wait at the station.

Eager and curious  
Filled with elation  
 
Look.  
I look for you.  
 
Handsome and dark  
My heart races before you  
 
The kindest of eyes  
The warmest of smiles  
 
I am ready to go with you  
For miles and miles  
 
I took my hand in yours  
As the train opened its doors  
 
“There’s room for two by the door”  
At a table meant for more  
 
Time flies by  
As you look me in the eye  
 
Take me on a joy ride  
I have nothing to hide  
 
Bare.
I bare no doubt.  
 
You know me now  
Both in and out  
 
Please tell me how  
You go about  
 
With all this pain  
Your heart suppresses  
 
Calm and gentle  
Despite life’s stresses  
 
Has it turned you cold?  
Or has it made you kind?  
 
Does it calm your soul?  
Or does it haunt your mind?  
 
Loved.  
I’ve never loved so purely.  
 
Forever yours  
I know this surely  
 
We leave this train  
On to another  
 
A rockier road  
But with you  
I suffer  
 
With you I am strong  
This love is  
Lifelong  
 
We’re on the other train  
But suddenly  
You push me out  
 
Instead of pouring rain  
All I am now  
is drought  
 
Fall.  
I fall back.  
 
Strapped tight  
To the middle of the train track  
 
Ropes don’t bind me  
Lost hope stands behind me  
 
Pressing down my skull  
Cracking bones with every hull  
 
Burning at the wrists  
And all the places that you’ve kissed  
 
This pleasure reads pain  
From the vessel to the vein  
 
Am I really insane?  
All aboard your crazy train  
 
You lied.  
You deceived.  
 
Broken promises I received  
 
Were those crocodile tears?  
That masked all your fears?  
 
Or was that real?  
 
I still lay here  
Waiting for things to be clear  
 
You make me question my sanity  
But was that your guilt, or your vanity?  
 
Or was I your ticket  
To the wrong station  
 
Was it love and trust  
Or revenge’s incarnation  
 
I don’t know if it’s delusion  
That helped you believe your illusion  
 
Gaslight the truth  
Waste what’s left of your youth  
 
Thank.  
Thank you.  
 
For throwing me out  
 
The back of this train  
 
And skewing my view  
 
Thank.  
Thank you.  
 
For showing me that truth  
 
Was something you left  
 
Back at the ticket booth  
 
Thank.  
Thank you.  
 
For having the nerve  
 
To be an example  
 
Of what I don’t deserve  
 
Need.  
I don’t need your attention.  
 
To prove that your loss of me  
Was enough for detention  
 
But I hope you got your redemption  
And that you see it through  
 
During this train’s connection  
You hurt the only one  
 
Who truly loved you
.
Written by Theonlydbld (Dima D.)
Published
Author's Note
I do not feel this way any more, I wrote this in the heat of the moment. I have moved on and let go, and I finally feel free.

In the lines:
Instead of pouring rain
all I am now is drought

There is a double meaning. My name, Dima, means downpour, turning into drought means to me a loss of my identity and a feeling of nothingness.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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